Something Green

by London Miller

  Though he wasn’t around to see it, Kennedy still scowled at the postcard, realizing that what she had thought was a clever little heist of her own was something he’d staged.

  If there were no other difference between her parents than the way they’d met, it was the way they went about giving their presents. Her ma liked to have everything wrapped prettily and opened on the day it was meant to be.

  Her da, on the other hand, had no rhyme or reason to what he did.

  He didn’t even tell her he was giving her her birthday present well in advance in the form of a scavenger hunt—she had stumbled upon it when she’d found the locked box tucked away in a cabinet in the kitchen.

  Even as she had been so tempted to open it, though she’d considered not opening it at first, but after finding a Post-it note sticking to the bottom of it that said Open me, she hadn’t been able to shake the impulse to unlock whatever was inside.

  Three more locks later, here she was.

  With just one more piece of the puzzle.

  The clue, whatever it was, had something to do with the postcard.

  Others might have found it all exasperating—she knew her best friend, Eliana wouldn’t have the patience for it—but the idea that there was more to be found and uncovered … she found it exhilarating.

  “So do I have your dad to blame for why you’ve been late twice this week?”

  Kennedy cringed, glancing over her shoulder to find her mom, Amber, standing over her with her arms folded across her chest and wearing that particular Mom face that meant she was seconds from being in trouble.

  “Eh,” she said with a delicate shrug, smiling sheepishly as she backed out of the closet. “Not entirely.”

  Not that it made much of a difference. Amber knew them both so well.

  “Mmhmm, let’s go.”

  Smiling in a silent request for mercy, Kennedy inched out of the closet, grabbing her leather satchel along the way before heading downstairs, her steps echoing off the metal staircase.

  “Don’t forget,” Amber called after her, coming down much slower, the electric shade of blue in her hair seeming bright as the sunlight reflected off it. “I have the showing tonight at six. Your dad and I expect you to be there.”

  “Six o’clock,” she agreed with a nod, already backing toward the door. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  If it were possible, her mom’s expression grew more skeptical. “I’m serious.”

  “And I’ll be there,” she promised, rushing over to give her a kiss on the cheek before she hurried out the door.

  It was only a matter of making sure she finished what she had to do first …

  Shit.

  Her mother was going to kill her, and not in the way that meant she would get that disapproving smile that always made her feel guilty—but in a way that seriously meant she was going to be grounded for weeks.

  Kennedy had always been quick on her feet—that was that Irish blood, her da always said, wearing that proud grin of his.

  But when it came down to commitments and making sure she got somewhere on time, she was late.

  Always.

  No matter when she left, or how quickly she ran, she never made it anywhere on time.

  And tonight was not the night for that. Not for her ma’s first showing of the year.

  Ma would be hurt if she wasn’t there.

  But she was on the complete opposite side of town—a part of the city they hadn’t exactly approved her to be in. And if she didn’t find a cab soon, she wasn’t just going to be late, she’d probably miss the entire thing.

  She was glancing up the street when the growl of an engine echoed in her ears.

  Her da liked fast cars—the sharp rip of an engine speeding through the city. Or even his favorite motorcycle that he’d had since before she was born.

  But nothing was like the growl of the engine creeping to a stop on her left.

  Loud enough that she couldn’t help but glance over in its direction, more curious than she should have been, for sure.

  At first, all she saw was black driving gloves before her gaze followed them up to vein-ridden wrists and muscled forearms just as the shadowed interior cut off everything else.

  It took a second more of just staring to realize that he’d reached over to roll down the passenger window.

  But once she heard his voice, she immediately stepped closer even as it felt as if a chill had gone down her spine.

  “It looks like you’re missing the show, solnyshka.”

  She’d lived a remarkably short number of years, she knew, but she didn’t think there was any voice on the planet that would ever affect her quite like Illarion’s did.

  The way he could reduce her to reddened cheeks and hesitant words when he was around just wasn’t natural.

  It was even more ridiculous the crush she’d always had on him. Which was why she had never told a single soul about it, especially not Eliana considering it was her brother. And she had hoped if she ignored it long enough, the feelings would fade.

  Three years had passed.

  Three years in which he had disappeared without a trace, and she hadn’t seen him since.

  Three years since it felt as if her heart had broken into pieces.

  Until this moment.

  And much to her disbelief—and annoyance—those old feelings came rushing right back up until she was all but choking on them.

  “I-Illarion?” she called, wondering if maybe her eyes were deceiving her.

  But she had an answer to that question quick enough when the driver’s side door popped open and the boy she’d known, who was now very much older, stepped out.

  At first, all she saw was the wolf’s head tattooed across the side of his neck, managing to blend seamlessly with the sleeve going down his left arm. Those were new.

  Ones she hadn’t been able to study up close when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  There had only been one tattoo three years ago—written down the curve behind his ear.

  One word—Volkov.

  For the briefest of seconds, she thought she saw his gaze flicker down the length of her, lingering on the plaid skirt she wore before he met her gaze again and grinned lazily. “Don’t say you don’t recognize me.”

  No, she certainly would never forget him. “I didn’t know you were coming back,” she said, though really, she hadn’t known he was going to leave either.

  He shrugged as if his absence meant nothing at all. “Sometimes, shit changes.”

  Yeah, there was definitely that.

  “Are you going home?” she asked, not even sure herself why she was asking.

  It wasn’t as if the pair of them had been particularly close, even before he left. Though his sister was her best friend and they’d all grown up together, Illarion and his twin sister were four years older.

  He came around the side of the car, far too casual, his stride too easy.

  He was definitely taller, she thought, or maybe it was the added muscle he’d put on in his absence, but whatever the difference was, she hadn’t been more acutely aware of it until he was standing directly in front of her.

  This close, she could better make out the blue of his eyes—a bright kaleidoscope of color that made her want to get lost in them for a while.

  He had to know the effect his eyes had on people? It was part of his charm, she imagined.

  “Your mom’s thing starts at six, right?”

  Right.

  The very thing she was rushing to get to.

  The very thing she had completely forgotten about far too quickly.

  Illarion gave a tilt of his head toward his car. “I’ll give you a lift.”

  Of all the things that could have possibly happened to her tonight, she wasn’t at all expecting for him to find her on this side of town.

  He didn’t give her a chance to agree or decline before he was opening the passenger door, gesturing for her to get in.

  Was there ever any doubt in her mi
nd that she was climbing into his car with him? She didn’t even hesitate despite not having seen him in so long.

  The moment she was seated in the low seat, he shut the door after her, engulfing her in the tiny space that smelled like him. Something woodsy and all too masculine. It was impossible not to drag the scent in with a deep breath, the warmth she felt spreading.

  She watched as he circled around the front of the car, his stride a little too easy and confident for a boy his age.

  Man, she mentally corrected herself, staring at the very obvious truth of that fact. Illarion was a man now.

  But even as good as he looked and as easy as it was to get lost in that alone, there was still the mystery surrounding his sudden disappearance three years ago.

  The only question now was:

  What had brought the prodigal son home?

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  The quiet hum of her phone made Karina groan as she woke slowly, the pillow resting over her face blocking out much of the noise, but as much as she wanted to ignore the call and drift back off to sleep, it was the second time it had rang in as many minutes, and she knew the caller wouldn’t be giving up anytime soon. After a moment of silent contemplation, she blindly reached out, shifting keys, a glass of water, and other bits on her dresser until she finally grasped the phone and connected the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this what you sound like when you fuck because if it is, I’ll try a little harder to get you in my bed.”

  Grumbling out a curse, she considered whether it would be in her best interest to end the call now before Orion could annoy her any further. “What do you want at”—she squinted as she pulled her phone away to glance at the too bright screen—“four in the damn morning?”

  “Doing what I said I wouldn’t.”

  “Leave me in peace to sleep?”

  “Help you get close to Uilleam Runehart,” he replied dryly.

  The name instantly sent adrenaline racing through her, and any chance of falling back asleep went right out the window as she sat up and shoved the tangled strands of her hair back out of her face. “How?”

  “Seems I’ve got your attention now.”

  She rolled her eyes, not caring that he wouldn’t be able to see it. “You knew you would. Now answer my question.”

  Maybe it was urgency in her voice or his own fascination with the man, but he stopped joking around. “Calm down. It’s not going to be what you think.”

  Whatever it was, it wouldn’t matter if he could do what he was suggesting. “What did you do, Orion?”

  “There’s a dinner in a couple of weeks–a fundraiser for whoever the fuck. Anyway, the guest list is full of your usual deep pockets, but they also invited a few people who I know for sure have been on Uilleam’s client list a time or two and a few more trying to make their way onto it. If they’re going to be there, I figure he will be too.”

  Two weeks.

  She didn’t doubt that what Orion told her was the truth. She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t joke about something like this. Especially something he knew was important to her.

  He didn’t waste time with lies and misdirection.

  “Invitations are going to be impossible,” she muttered out loud, already considering the possibilities and the number of favors she would need to call in.

  And even that was a long shot.

  “Why do you think I’m calling, babe?”

  She smiled, even before she meant to. “Should I even ask how you managed this?”

  “Friend of a friend of an enemy. Small circles, ya know.”

  Sometimes, it felt that way, but she was often reminded that while everyone seemed to know the next criminal, no one knew everyone. She was counting on that.

  “So I’ve got an invitation and need a plus one. Know anyone available for me?”

  Now was her chance. “Pick me up at seven.”

  She might have been quick to agree to attend the dinner, but the event had quickly slipped Karina’s mind as she continued working and doing everything she could to further her investigation into Paxton.

  Between trying to get back into the good graces of her boss—who was slowly coming around and giving her less grunt work—she wasn’t at all prepared for a night out with people who would be dressed as if they were walking a red carpet.

  Her wardrobe consisted mainly of jeans and blouses, even a few blazers here and there—nothing at all that would be appropriate for a night like this.

  At first, she considered wearing the little black dress that hung in her closet ever since the paper’s 4th of July party, but after reviewing the guest list Orion had texted her a picture of, she knew the simple outfit would make her stand out in a bad way.

  And while she might have been living in NYC for nearly a year, she still wasn’t at all familiar with the numerous boutiques. But, she did know one person she could call, and while they were currently busy in Berlin, she knew they knew the city like the back of their hand.

  “As happy as I am to hear from you, you do realize it’s creeping up on midnight here,” Isla said, her voice carrying only the slightest traces of sleep.

  It didn’t matter that it was late where she was in the world, or that she probably had endless things to do the next day—because she always stayed busy—there was never a time when Karina called that she didn’t answer the phone.

  “I have a problem you can help me with,” Karina said, smiling as she listened to her sister’s voice.

  This wasn’t the first time they had gone more than a couple of months without speaking, caught up in their own lives, but just as she had before, that feeling of homesickness weighed heavy on her.

  Isla, if no one, else was what she missed most about being home.

  The pale pink cherry blossom trees that bloomed so prettily in the spring were a distant second.

  “Anything for you,” came her quick reply.

  As she had expected it to be. “I need a dress. Something formal, but easy-going. Nothing too ostentatious, but enough that the right person would notice.”

  One person in particular, but she didn’t bother to mention that to Isla.

  It wasn’t quite time for that yet.

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “It’s a fundraiser dinner.”

  Isla made a humming sound in the back of her throat. “The city’s elite, I imagine.”

  “From the more popular families, yes.”

  The ones with more money than they could ever spend in a lifetime.

  And after doing a little research, they were also some of the ones who liked to dip their toes in illegal activities, though it had yet to be proven.

  “Go to Shauney’s on 15th and tell Donna I sent you. She’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” She paused for a moment. “When was the last time you talked to Mother?”

  Karina grimaced as she stepped up to the edge of the sidewalk, raising her hand to flag down a cab. This was the one question she’d been attempting to avoid. “Not recently.”

  “Karina.” She managed to sound both admonishing and amused. “You know she requires check-ins … or would you just prefer she show her face? She’s not above that, you know.”

  Unfortunately, she did know. and while she hoped the latter wouldn’t happen, she still wasn’t ready to take her phone call.

  “Couldn’t you stall her for a bit?” Karina asked, breathing out a sigh as a taxi quickly switched lanes and pulled to the side for her. “I’m working on … something, and—”

  “Something interesting?” Isla asked, sounding more awake now.

  Karina sl
ipped into the back of the cab, quickly giving the address to the man behind the wheel, but as she readied to explain everything that had happened over the past few weeks—months, really, considering how long she had been looking for Uilleam, though she hadn’t known it at the time—nothing came out. The mystery behind him had been such a well-kept secret of hers that she didn’t even work on what little she could gather about him until the wee hours of the morning though there was never anyone around to see what she was doing.

  He was also a man who she didn’t enjoy the thought of sharing with anyone just yet. It had become imperative for Orion to know, considering she had needed his aid directly, but she couldn’t imagine sharing anything with anyone else.

  Not until she had more.

  This was something she needed to sort through herself.

  “Not your sort of interesting, Iz,” she said quickly, hoping she wouldn’t push further. “Just a few bits at work.”

  “Careful,” Isla said oddly. “Your accent slipped a bit there.”

  Karina played back her words in her mind, thinking of what she’d said and realized the mistake she’d made. Anyone else might not have noticed her misstep, or at the very least, they would have thought she was watching a lot of BBC America television shows—which was accurate, all the same—but only Isla would pick up on something so minuscule.

  It was what she was taught to do.

  Both of them, really, though Isla had always been better at this sort of thing.

  From the moment she had arrived in New York and began a new life where no one knew her name or where she had come from, she had quickly adopted the accent around her.

  She blended in.

  It made starting a routine and slipping into everyday life rather easy, considering no one would ask about the accent she hid or why she had moved to the States at all.

  That would undoubtedly be the first question, and while innocent in nature, it was quite easily the most complicated one of all.

  “It’s because I’m talking to you,” Karina reminded her, staring out at the city around her as she ventured farther into the city. “And honestly, Iz, it’s been a year. You don’t expect me to lose it completely, do you?”